


It Is What It Is

by Bookworm1063



Category: Carry On Series - Rainbow Rowell
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-31
Updated: 2020-08-31
Packaged: 2021-03-06 20:22:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,865
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26214799
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bookworm1063/pseuds/Bookworm1063
Summary: It's Simon's fifth year at Watford, and the start of his relationship with Agatha. Meanwhile, Baz is working out his own feelings, and Penny is just trying to keep Simon alive.
Relationships: Penelope Bunce & Simon Snow, Simon Snow/Agatha Wellbelove
Comments: 2
Kudos: 10





	It Is What It Is

**Simon**

I made it a point, this summer, not to think about Watford. I always do.

As I trudge up to the front gates, I take it all in- the grounds, the Weeping Tower, the White Chapel in the distance. Penny, waiting for me at the base of the drawbridge.

I drop my bag and smile at her. “Hi.”

“Hey,” Penny says. She’s not making a scene.

“Is Agatha back yet?”

“I haven’t seen her.” Penny glances down at my bag. “Unpacking first, or food?”

“Food,” I say. Penny hands me a sour cherry scone she must’ve smuggled out of the dining hall. 

“Thanks,” I say, taking a bite. It’s so good. Everything’s so good, the first day back.

Well. Almost everything.

“Baz back yet?” I ask, around a mouthful of scone.

Penny sighs. “I haven’t seen him, either. You couldn’t wait an hour?”

“He could be plotting something in that hour, Pen.”

“Baz is always either plotting something, doing something nefarious, or being a general git,” Penny says. “Please just give it a rest. Just for today.”

I nod.

o-o-o-o-o

**Baz**

Snow isn’t back yet- or, at least, he’s not in our room.

I leave my bags on my bed and take a clean Watford uniform out of the wardrobe. Every year, I’m surprised that the Mage hasn’t spelled them. Tracking charms, eavesdropping hexes… something. But they’re always clean.

I’ve just finished knotting my tie when the door slams open.

And it’s Simon bloody Snow.

“Snow,” I say. Calm, cool, and collected. “It hasn’t been long enough.”

Snow rolls his eyes. “Nice to see you haven’t changed over the summer, Baz.” He dumps his stuff on his bed and reaches for his wardrobe. His tee shirt is too small, and the fabric rides up, exposing his lower back. For some reason, I can’t look away. There’s a single tiny mole right above the waistband of his jeans.

Snow turns around, and I make myself stop staring. I shouldn’t have been looking in the first place. I’m not sure why I was, only that my cheeks are warm. Thank Crowley I didn’t feed last night, or the blush would be even more visible.

I shouldn’t be blushing anyway. There is no reason for me to be blushing right now.

Snow disappears into the bathroom, and I drop down onto my bed, my face buried in my hands.

o-o-o-o-o

**Agatha**

It’s almost Christmas break.

Simon and Baz got into it this morning. Simon’s still sporting a bruise across his cheekbone, but it’s fading. Baz looks worse. Why the Crucible cast them together, I’ll never understand.

For the past few weeks, I’ve noticed Simon…. I don’t know. _Looking_ at me. It’s a less intense version of the look he gives Baz. I’m not really sure what to do with it. Simon is one of my best friends. I don’t want to mess with that.

But it’s almost Christmas, and I need a date to the Winter Dance. So I ask him.

“Simon,” I say. We’re in the corridor, after Magic Words class.

“Yeah?” He almost drops the armload of books he’s carrying.

“Would you want to go to the Winter Dance with me?” I ask. “Like, as a date.”

His face lights up. “I’d love to.”

Behind me, someone snorts. Baz shoves past us, a smirk fixed in place. The tips of his ears are tinged pink.

Simon stares after him, watching him vanish at the end of the corridor.

“Simon?” I ask.

“Yeah,” he says. “Yeah. I’ll see you then.”

I smile, and try to be excited.

o-o-o-o-o

**Baz**

So Snow has a girlfriend. Or something.

I shouldn’t care. I’m not sure why I do.

Whatever this feeling is, it’s making me want to punch walls and scream. So I do. Punch a wall, that is. I don’t scream. There are still people in earshot.

It doesn’t so much as sting my knuckles. Because I’m not really alive.

o-o-o-o-o

**Penelope**

Simon has been following Baz around every night for the past week. He’s plowing through his dinner, preparing to do it again.

“Simon,” I say, “The Winter Dance is tomorrow. Leave Baz alone, just for one night. You need to sleep.”

“You want me to let a vampire roam the school?”

“Do we know he’s a vampire?”

Simon rolls his eyes.

It’s not that I disagree with him. It’s just that I’m not sure it changes anything. Maybe Baz is a vampire, maybe he isn’t. Simon’s biggest problem is still the Humdrum. And after that, the Old Families. Which includes Baz, but that doesn’t hinge on him being dead. Undead. Whatever.

It just doesn’t matter. I’ve told him at least a dozen times. 

He won’t listen.

I give up with a sigh. “Just make sure you’re presentable tomorrow.”

o-o-o-o-o

**Simon**

Agatha looks beautiful.

She’s wearing a sparkling silver dress with straps instead of sleeves. It falls all the way to the floor, sparkling like a sheet of ice. Her hair is pulled back in a high ponytail. She looks like a queen.

She takes my hand, and I lead the way out onto the dance floor. I don’t know how to dance. I’m going to make a complete fool of myself.

And then someone cuts in.

“Miss Wellbelove. May I have this dance?”

o-o-o-o-o

**Baz**

I twirl Agatha away before Snow can protest, leaving him standing there in the middle of the dance floor, alone.

I wonder, for less than a second, what it might be like to dance with Snow. Then I shove the thought out of my head.

I’m not sure why I’m doing this, even. Dancing with Wellbelove.

“Baz,” Wellbelove says. “Why are we dancing?”

“To get under Snow’s skin, of course,” I say, guiding her into an expert twirl. “Why else do I do anything?”

That wasn’t true. I’d seen them from across the ballroom, and that feeling had come back- the one I had no name for, the one that made me want to punch walls. I’d have done anything to make it stop.

“You’re horrible,” Wellbelove says, but she doesn’t pull away.

Maybe she’s right. But I don’t care. All I care about is the look on Snow’s face as he watches us. Watches me.

o-o-o-o-o

**Penelope**

I’m watching Baz and Agatha dance, and watching Simon watch Baz and Agatha, when someone screams.

Outside the ballroom, out on the grounds, there’s an unearthly howl.

All over the dance floor, couples spring apart. Simon runs to my side, already murmuring the incantation for the Sword of Mages.

“What’s out there?” he asks.

“I don’t know.” I run for the doors, and Simon follows me. Most of the other students pour out behind us.

Dark shapes bound across the lawn, still making that horrible noise. I glance up at the sky.

Full moon.

“Werewolves!” I cry.

That sends everyone near me scattering, but it’s too damn _loud_ out here. I cast a quick **_“Your attention, please!”_ **and try again. _“Werewolves!_ Don’t let them bite you!”

Almost everyone scatters. Not Simon—he’s got his sword out, and I can feel his magic pouring out of him.

He charges toward the werewolves without another look back.

When I check over my shoulder, I see Baz. He didn’t leave with the rest of the students. Instead, he’s lingering near the White Chapel, watching.

I don’t have time to worry about him. I follow Simon into battle.

o-o-o-o-o

**Baz**

I should be hoping the werewolves win. Really.

Not that I think they have a chance. Nothing has managed to kill Simon Snow yet—I don’t think today will be the day.

If I’m going to care at all, I should be standing here hoping one of those wolves gets a lucky shot in. But I’m not. I…

I don’t know. I don’t know what I want.

I want him to stay alive.

I want him to not get hurt.

Why do I care what happens to Simon Snow?

o-o-o-o-o

**Simon**

There’s just no way I can get a moment’s peace around here, is there?

I’m complete shit with my wand, and I left it back in my room anyway, so I’m fighting with my sword. I can tell the Humdrum sent the werewolves—there’s that dry itch in the air. My skin prickles.

Behind me, Penny is casting spells at any werewolves who slip past. The purple ring on her finger sparkles in the moonlight.

I swing my sword again, and the blade connects with a werewolf mid-leap. The wolf crashes to the ground. Something swipes across the back of my shoulder.

Penelope screams.

Then the pain hits, and I collapse to my knees, struggling to stay upright. Something warm and wet is running down my back, making my suit jacket and button-down shirt stick to my skin.

Blood, I realize. My blood.

Penny casts another spell, and I think she must have gotten rid of the last werewolf, because then she drops down next to me and starts chanting healing spells. **_“Get well soon. Get well soon. Get well soon,”_** she says, over and over again, even though I know she knows other spells.

The world is spinning around me. Everything’s a blur.

“Penny,” I say. Then I pass out.

o-o-o-o-o

**Penelope**

Simon’s unconscious in my arms, and I’ve moved on from **Get well soon.** I’m casting every healing spell I can think of— ** _“Early to bed and early to rise!” “An apple a day keeps the doctor away!”_** (That one will only work if Simon’s had an apple today, but I think he ate one with breakfast).

Then someone crouches down next to me, wand in hand.

I look up, not bothering to disguise the tears streaming down my cheeks.

It’s Baz.

o-o-o-o-o

**Baz**

I couldn’t stop staring at that pool of blood.

Not because I’m a vampire (Well. A little bit because I’m a vampire). But because it was Simon’s. Simon Snow was going to bleed out on the grounds of Watford while I watched. This should have been something good. The Mage’s Heir, out of our way at last.

But all I could think was _no_.

So now I’m kneeling next to Bunce, trying to breathe through my mouth (not that it helps, really), casting healing spells on my sworn enemy.

At least he wasn’t bitten. If he had been, there wouldn’t have been anything to do but wait and see. He was scratched. It will hurt like hell, but he won’t Turn.

The skin under the tears in Snow’s shirt have mostly healed over now, under the combined strength of Bunce’s and my healing spells. She hasn’t asked why I’m helping her. I don’t think she cares, as long as Snow is all right.

I don’t care, as long as Snow is all right.

Also, I hate him. I hate this.

When it seems clear that he’s not going to bleed out in the courtyard, Bunce and I sit back. People are going to start gathering soon. I need to get out of here.

“Thank you,” Bunce says.

I force myself to roll my eyes. “For what? You’re forgetting, Bunce—If anyone’s going to kill Snow, it’s going to be me. I’m certainly not going to let a pack of werewolves do the job.”

Miss Possibelf descends on us then, and she and Bunce lift Snow off the ground, staggering away towards the infirmary. I stand and watch, my school uniform soaked in Snow’s blood. I can smell it.

I should shower. I should change. I should never have let this happen.

Because I finally have a name for the feeling that makes me want to hit something, whenever I see Snow and Wellbelove together. I have a name for what I felt today, watching Simon Snow collapse into a pool of his own blood.

Snow is probably going to kill me one of these days. I don’t care.

I’m in love with him.

_Shit._

o-o-o-o-o

**A Week Later**

**Simon**

Agatha and I are curled up together on the sofa in her TV room. There’s something on the screen, but I’m not watching it. I’m trying to figure out how to ask her something.

The scratches still hurt. I can feel the bandages every time my back brushes the sofa.

“Agatha?” I say, and she hums without taking her eyes off the TV.

“What are we?” I ask her. Maybe it’s too soon. We’ve only been on one real date, and Baz interrupted it (I guess there was also the werewolves).

“What do you mean?” Agatha asked, glancing over at me.

Well, I’m already here. Might as well keep going. “Are we… together? Like boyfriend and girlfriend?”

Agatha tilts her head to the side. “Do you want to be?”

Do I? I think so. Agatha is beautiful. She’s one of my best friends. And we fit together. It’s what I’m supposed to want.

It _is_ what I want.

“Yeah,” I say. “I do.”

“Okay, then,” Agatha says. She smiles at me, and I smile back. I can’t believe this is happening.

Agatha leans towards me, and for a moment, I’m not sure what’s happening. I’ve never kissed anyone before. I think Agatha has, though. She seems to know what she’s doing, and it’s nice. Really nice.

I wonder if Baz is a good kisser. Probably. He’s good at everything else.

Agatha pulls away. “Okay?”

“Yeah,” I say. “Okay.”

o-o-o-o-o

**Baz**

Christmas dinner is torture.

Fiona came over to spend the holiday with us. She’s sitting next to Mordelia, who won’t stop pelting the twins with pieces of turkey. They’re taking it well enough, babbling away in their high chairs, but it’s only a matter of time before the tears start.

My father sits at the head of the table, my stepmother next to him. They’re talking quietly to each other, ignoring me.

I’m not eating. I’ll take leftovers upstairs later.

Fiona leans forward, facing me across the table. “So, boyo,” she says. “Figured out how to take down the Mage yet?”

“No,” I say. “If the rest of the Families haven’t yet, I doubt I will.”

“The rest of the Families don’t have half your brains.”

Father doesn’t _snort_ , precisely, but his lips thin, and he makes a noise in the back of his throat.

“Thank you,” I say. I take a sip of water from the glass in front of me.

“So, Baz,” Father says. “How is school? How are your classes?”

“As useless as ever, I’m sure,” Fiona mutters.

I roll my eyes. “Fine. I’m still top of the class.”

“Penelope Bunce hasn’t beat you yet?”

“She won’t, not if she keeps following Snow around and almost getting herself killed every other week.”

“Good,” Father says. “What about friends? Any girls who have caught your eye?”

_Well. No, Father_ , I imagine myself saying. _You see, I’m queer. Also, I’m in love with my sworn enemy, the Mage’s Heir, who everyone else at this table wants dead, and who will probably kill me eventually. And on a completely unrelated note, I’m a vampire. My life is a fucking disaster._

I think if I said that, someone at this table might actually try to kill me. Or at the very least, seriously consider it.

Oh, well.

“No,” I say. “I’m gay.”

Father doesn’t say anything. He just lowers his fork back to his plate. Daphne smiles at me and reaches across the table, covering my hand with her own. Thank Crowley for her.

Then Fiona says, “Well, good for you, Basil. Any blokes, then?”

I shrug. “Maybe.”

The rest of the meal passes in silence.

o-o-o-o-o

**Simon**

The werewolf scratches have mostly healed by the time Agatha and I return to Watford. They still hurt when I move the wrong way, but as long as nothing attacks me for the next week, it should be alright.

I mean. There’ll probably be a dragon tomorrow, with my luck, but besides that.

“Hi, Simon,” Penelope says, when she sees me at lunch. I slide into the seat next to her and reach for a scone.

“Hey, Penny.”

“Where’s Agatha?”

“Unpacking.” I start slathering my scone in butter. Penny wrinkles her nose.

“That’s not lunch, Simon.”

I shrug and take a bite.

Across the dining hall, the doors open. Baz steps into the hall, flanked by Dev and Niall. For a moment, his eyes lock on mine.

He looks pale. Maybe he’s not drinking enough blood. What happens when vampires don’t drink enough?

Baz blinks once, then looks away. He sits down at the opposite end of the hall.

“Weird,” Penny comments.

“What?” I glance over at her.

“I just thought, after what happened… never mind,” she says. “Eat your scone.”

“No secrets, Pen.”

“It’s not a secret. I figured he’d be a little, I don’t know. Nicer. After what happened at the dance.”

I laugh. “Seriously, you think a werewolf attack is enough to make Baz _nice_?”

Penny laughs too. “No, not really.”

I take another bite of my scone, watching Baz. He’s not eating. I’ve never actually seen him eat.

He is watching me, though. He sneers and looks away when he notices me staring.

I guess that’s how it is, then. 


End file.
